


From Stark Industries to Parker Industries

by myglassesaredirty



Series: Oh Boy, Kiddo [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: I might come back to it, More characters to come, On Hiatus, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is relatable, Peter-centric, a long fucking hiatus, but it’s gonna be a long fucking while, headcanons galore, i'll add tags as they come to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: He's a smart kid; as smart as Tony was at that age. And besides - Tony's not going to be around forever, and neither will Pepper or Rhodey. Someone needs to take care of his company when they're all dead and gone, and that someone, Tony thinks, is Mr. Peter Parker.But there's two problems:1) Peter's still in high school.2) Well…the world is about to end*ON HIATUS FOR A WHILE*





	1. Finals Week

**Author's Note:**

> I was studying for my anatomy test (which is the entire reason I put a lot of anatomy stuff with these fics) and then I decided that I needed to write a "Peter-Parker-is-super-relatable-and-finals" type thing.
> 
> All of the anatomy questions come from my textbook, in case you were wondering. The others (thus far) come from various Quizlets.
> 
> (Also I really enjoyed writing this)

“Name 2 ways the skin helps regulate body temperature.”

He blinks rapidly for a moment before licking his lips. “Um…” He knows the answer. He knows he knows it. He knows it’s an easy question.

Rhodey slowly nods his head, tapping his fingers against the surface of the side table. His face is hidden behind a pile of flashcards. “You know this, Pete.”

Peter closes his eyes and thinks back to his notes. He remembers writing that same question, and he remembers writing an answer…

“Sweat!” he exclaims, opening his eyes. Rhodey gives him a nod in affirmation. “Um, so your body produces more sweat when you’re hot. And, also, blood vessels in the dermis dilate, which increases blood flow, which increases heat loss.” He licks his lips again. “And when you’re cold, it’s the opposite – you know, sweat production decreases and blood vessels constrict, which reduces blood flow, which reduces heat loss.”

“Good job,” Rhodey says, taking that notecard and moving it to the back. “What causes goose bumps?”

“Autonomic nerve endings stimulate the arrector pili muscles to contract, which pulls hair shafts perpendicular to the skin’s surface.”

Rhodey raises his eyebrows. “Yep,” he says, moving it to the back.

It’s finals week starting Monday, and Peter’s stress levels are through the roof. Not to mention that junior year is the most important year, and he’s taking the ACT come February. So, yeah. Stress is currently his state of being.

Which means Tony wouldn’t let him into the lab, which means Peter is even more stressed.

Really, junior year is rough and he is about to break down because if he doesn’t get a break in the next five minutes –

Rhodey nods after Peter answers the next question. “Alright. I think we can take a break now.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah. You need to eat something. Want some pizza?” Rhodey stands and reaches for his phone that’s clipped to his belt.

Peter nods his head. “Y-yeah. I love pizza.”

“What kind do you like? If you say pineapple, I am going to slap you upside the head.” He’s already dialed the number, and his phone is pressed against his ear.

“Pineapple,” Peter says sheepishly.

“I hate you,” Rhodey murmurs. Regardless, he puts in an order for an “extra-large pineapple pizza because I’ve got a kid with no sense of self-control.”

Peter just laughs to himself as he scrolls through his Snapchat. Michelle snapped him a picture of her lying on the ground with papers strewn all around her with the words I GIVE UP taking up half the photo. He laughs again and snaps back his double chin and a “rel8able.”

It’s the language of love, and Tony doesn’t understand it in the least. Really, it cracks Peter up.

“So, Pete,” Rhodey calls from the kitchen, “when you were in band, what instrument did you play?”

Honestly, he’s surprised at the question. Outside of school, no one really cares. “Uh, flute.”

Glass clinks against the countertop, and Rhodey pours something into the glass. “I would have pegged you for trumpet or saxophone.”

Peter laughs and drops his phone into his lap. “Y-yeah, a lot of people thought I would be a trumpet. I think that’s why I became a flute.”

“I was in the band, you know.” Rhodey takes a sip of his drink. “Drum line. I played all through high school and into college.”

Peter twists in his seat to see Rhodey smiling at him. “Really?”

He nods. “Yup. It was really fun. Stressful, but fun.”

“You guys talking about instruments?”

Rhodey startles at Tony’s unexpected appearance, and Peter lifts his hand in a wave.

Tony pulls out a chair from the kitchen table and straddles it. “I learned violin when I was younger. Don’t know if I’ve still got it, but I knew it once.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “But you’re, like, ancient.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him. “Listen here, you little –”

Rhodey stepped between them. “I’m going to go pick up the pizzas. Don’t bite each other’s heads off.”

Tony lifts his hand in a wave. “No guarantees.” When Rhodey leaves the room, Tony reaches onto the table and picks up the flashcards. “Don’t they have apps for this? Why are you still using paper?”

Peter shrugs. “Physically writing it out helps me remember it better.” There’s also the small fact that it helps keep him up when he doesn’t feel like sleeping, but he’s not going to mention that.

“And you call me old.” He flips through them. “What is the difference between down-regulation and up-regulation?”

Peter blinks. “Erm…” He doesn’t remember that question. It’s buried deep in his notes, and he vaguely recalls a low(er) grade on that test. “Something…that has to do with a something.”

“Be more specific. Not just something to do with something.”

“Um…”

“You’re a teenager. You can relate to part of this.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Hormones?”

“Correct,” Tony says with a nod.

“Excess hormones?”

“More specific…”

Peter licks his lips. “A hormone is present in excess…” When Tony makes no effort to correct him, he keeps going. “And, um…um, it, uh, it…causes the number of target-cell receptors may decrease?”

Tony nods. “And that is called…” He waves his hand to prompt Peter further.

“Down-regulation?”

“What’s up-regulation then?”

Peter taps his finger against the armrest of the couch. “When there’s not enough of a hormone and the number of receptors may increase?”

Tony takes the card and moves it to the back. “I’d study that one again.”

“Yeppershmoodle.”

Tony literally shudders. “Oh, God. Never say that word again. I will ground you. Just…don’t.”

Peter laughs.

“I’m serious, kid, if I ever hear you say that God-forsaken word, I will wash your mouth out with soap.” His eyes are sparkling with a smile, even as he twists his mouth to keep from grinning.

“Yeah, but, uh, anatomy isn’t…isn’t my best subject, you know. It’s just that we don’t, like…you know, we don’t have the best teacher and there’s a lot of hard questions and lab practicals which are super-duper hard and quizzes and reviews that have absolutely nothing to do with the test, so yeah, there’s that –”

Tony raises a hand, and Peter stops talking. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I never thought you’d major in biology, anyways.” He shuffles through the rest of the cards, quickly scanning the questions on the front that range everywhere from the integumentary system to joints to the autonomic nervous system to the cardiovascular system. “Finals stressing you out?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Mr. Stark,” he says in a low tone, “you don’t even know.”

“You’ll knock it out of the park, bud.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

Tony is not impressed. “Have you met me, kid? Niceness is not my strong suit.”

Peter nods. “Touché.”

Tony drums his fingers against the tabletop. “You thinkin’ about college yet?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, “and it’s really stressful. Like, there’s so many things I have to do and I have to amp up my résumé and take the SAT and the ACT and I’ve got to do more and graduate valedictorian and I can’t fail at anything –”

Tony holds up a hand. “Slow your roll, kid. Slow. Your. Roll. You’ll be just fine, and besides, if all else fails, you’ve got the Stark Internship.”

“Yeah.” Peter nods. “Um, just…just so you know, MIT is at the top of the list.” He fiddles with his fingers, looking from the ceiling to his hands to the windows. “I was wondering…I was wondering if you could maybe possibly maybe potentially write me a letter of recommendation.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “MIT, huh? Good choice, good choice. And, yeah, I’ll definitely write you a letter of recommendation. I’m sure Rhodes will, too. Though, I gotta say, I don’t think you’ll need it with your grades.”

“Think so?” Peter’s looking at him with awe and surprise, as if he couldn’t have ever imagined that Iron Man would be so encouraging.

Maybe, Tony thinks, no one ever told him before that he could do it. Even if May and Ben thought (and hoped) that he could, they couldn’t have ever afforded that tuition.

He smiles softly and says, “You’ll get it done, kid.” Before Peter could say anything, he says, “Now: What features distinguish the three types of muscular tissue?”

X-X-X-X-X

Seventh period is his first final.

Unfortunately, it’s also his easiest final. He turns it in within twenty minutes, and he knows for sure that he got a 100. It is computer science, after all.

When he’s done, he pulls out his flashcards and begins studying for his other tests; anatomy is most important, but he and Tony worked through meal times and in the lab, and Bruce may have quizzed him a couple of times.

So, yeah. He’s pretty okay for his anatomy test.

Tomorrow, school lets out early, and he has to take his Spanish, English, and government finals. The last day before Christmas break involves – in order – finals for calculus, psychology, and anatomy.

Which may or may not be the reason he quite literally feels sick to his stomach. Seriously, the pressure of school literally induces flu-like symptoms.

(Though Tony says it’s actually the flu or he’s just overworking himself; regardless, Peter’s been on the receiving end of more than a couple of “don’t push yourself past the breaking point” lectures that Tony himself never seems to listen to. How’s that for a dose of his own medicine.)

Once the bell rings, he practically sprints out the door, waiting only for Ned and Michelle to catch up. “Study group?” he asks once they’re within earshot.

Ned nods and gives him a thumbs-up. “MJ’s apartment at 7.”

Michelle shrugs and throws her stuff in her locker. “I’m ordering pizza, losers. It’ll be delivered, and there’ll be snacks, too. Just limit your soda intake.” She picks out her calculus textbook and shuts her locker. “Be there or be square,” she says, narrowing her eyes at Peter.

He ignores her glare. “Will you have M&M popcorn?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yes!” Peter and Ned shout at the same time, pumping their fists in the air.

She looks between them for a moment before muttering, “losers,” and walking off.

X-X-X-X-X

“¿Cómo escribe un currículum?”

Peter licks his lips, his hand digging in a bowlful of popcorn for some elusive M&M’s. “Um…Escriba una página – pero no más que dos páginas – y usted resume su educación, experiencia, intereses, y talentos. Di su empleador su referentes.”

MJ peers over the top of the notecard and nods slowly. “Muy bien, Parker.” She turns behind her and marks a tally on the whiteboard. “Another point for Peter.”

Ned stretches. “As great as Spanish is, can we move on to government or English?”

Peter yawns and shakes his head. “Naw, man. Food comes first.”

“You literally have eaten through two full bags of popcorn and M&M’s.”

He shrugs guiltily. MJ checks her watch. “Pizza should be here in a couple minutes. Wanna watch something while we eat?”

Ned stands and walks to get a glass of water. “What do you have?”

She leans back and rests her head against the couch. “The movie library is in the cabinet under the TV, nerds. Have a hay day.”

Peter rolls his eyes and crawls to see what she has. There’s a variety: everything from depressing movies to feel-good films to romantic comedies to old pictures to nerdy things. They have a choice to make.

And Peter chooses To Kill a Mockingbird immediately.

They try to choose something while they wait for the pizza to arrive, but none of them agree – MJ (quite surprisingly) wants to watch Legally Blonde, Ned wants to watch The Hobbit, and Peter wants to watch TKAM.

Naturally, he calls Tony to make the tie-breaking vote.

Tony picks up on the third ring.

“Kid, I told you not to go patrolling during finals week. I’ve got things under control.”

Peter glances over his shoulder, watching as Ned and Michelle bicker about which movie is better – and he’s gotta say, he kind of agrees with MJ. “Oh, it’s…it’s not about that. My friends and I…we-we’re taking a short break from studying, and we can’t decide which movie to watch.”

He can’t see Tony, but he knows he’s glaring at whatever’s in front of him.

“You called me to see which movie I thought you guys should watch?”

“Yep.”

“You know I’m a busy man, right?”

Peter rocks up on the balls of his feet. “Eighty bucks says you’re just watching videos of puppies playing.”

“Kittens,” Tony says, and Peter can imagine Tony pointing his index finger at him. “Get it right. It’s very important business.”

“You gonna help us or not?”

Tony sighs. “You have blackmail against me, kid. Pepper will kill me if she knows that’s what I was doing during the entire board meeting. Sure, sure, I’ll help. What movies do you got?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird, Legally Blonde, and The Hobbit.”

Tony makes a retching sound. “Oh, God. Not the Hobbit. That was terrible. Either TKAM or Legally Blonde. Flip a coin, or let your third party decide. Adíos, kiddo.”

“Tony –”

He’s hung up.

Peter turns around. “So, we’ve got a choice to make between TKAM and Legally Blonde.”

X-X-X-X-X

It’s three hours later, and they’ve watched a movie and studied Spanish. Peter calls May and tells her he’ll be staying at MJ’s tonight (yes, he’ll sleep on the couch or on the floor and yes, there’s parental supervision; no, there is not alcohol, and no, they are not going to do anything inappropriate). After he answers her questions satisfactorily, Michelle ducks into her brother’s room and throws some pajamas his way.

“You’re about his size,” she says with a shrug before she disappears into her own room to change.

It’s currently half past midnight, and they’ve blown through English and Spanish. They’re camped out in MJ’s room, notebooks and textbooks piled in the middle of the circle they’ve managed to form. Peter’s wrapped a green blanket around his shoulders, and he leans forward as he waits for Michelle to ask the next question.

“What is Gödel’s loophole?” she asks.

Peter furrows his brow, and Ned raises his hand.

“Ned?”

“Isn’t it Article V? The right to self-amend?”

MJ purses her lips, considering his answer. “More specific,” she finally says.

“Basically, we could amend ourselves into a dictatorship. There’s no way to solve this problem.”

She lifts her index finger. “Ding-ding-ding,” she says, “we have a winner.” She hands him the stack of notecards and shifts so that she’s sitting crisscross-applesauce.

“Define discretionary spending.”

Both Peter and MJ open their mouths to answer at the same time, but Ned points to Peter. “Go.”

“Elements of the federal budget not determined by past legislative or executive commitments. It must receive annual approval by Congress.” He yawns into his hand.

Ned turns to MJ. “Examples?”

“Operation expenses and government employee salaries, like for employees involved with defense, environment, education, and/or space exploration.”

Ned nods and passes Peter the questions. Peter moves the most recent card to the back and studies the question. He yawns again (finals are really kicking his butt) and asks, “What was George W. Bush’s position on economic policy?”

Poor Ned doesn’t stand a chance against Michelle. Before Peter can even finish the question, she says, “He believed the government was taking more than it needed and suggested a tax cut. He thought the government was too big, and he trusted the people.”

Peter nods and hands the cards back to her. She puts a rubber band around them and grabs the books in her arms, setting them on her desk before the boys can react. “We did good, guys. But now it’s time for some shut-eye. Chip chop.”

Peter grumbles about it as he stumbles back to the living room, but once he lays down on the couch, he’s out like a light.

And the next day, he passes his finals with flying colors.

X-X-X-X-X

Sometimes, when he’s nervous, he can hear noises better than before.

As the teacher passes out the tests, he can hear the ticking of the clock. With each movement of the second hand, he gets more and more antsy, anxiously drumming his fingers on his desktop.

Time is of the essence, after all.

From where he sits, he can hear Flash’s shallow breathing and MJ’s heartbeat. Ned rubs the tips of his fingers together, and another kid taps his pencil on the desk. Papers rustle as teens pass them to the people behind them, and pencil lead scratches against the tests as students write their names.

Gwen drums a rhythm that’s similar to that of the four-beat pattern of the Master in Doctor Who. Another kid taps out Morse code – quite specifically, he types out S.O.S. – and waits for a friend to respond to him. Someone shifts restlessly, and Ned turns to cough into the crook of his elbow.

This won’t be a fun test.

Peter gets his paper and, without turning in his seat, hands the remaining tests to the person behind him. He picks up his pencil, writes his heading, and then looks at the first question.

HOW ARE EXCITTORY AND INHIBITORY POSTSYNAPTIC POTENTIALS SIMILAR AND DIFFERENT?

Flash makes some kind of choking noise. Michelle is writing out the answer, and Ned’s looking up at the ceiling, methodically tapping out a beat as he thinks.

God. Peter just wants to take this final in complete silence.

He blocks it all from his mind and thinks back to his study sessions with Tony.

The class has 50 minutes to complete their final – Michelle finishes it in thirty minutes, someone else finishes it in 32 minutes, and Peter turns it in with seven minutes to spare.

And he waits for the bell to ring.

X-X-X-X-X

Tony owns approximately four different residences within the state of New York alone. One of those happens to be a penthouse in Queens.

Now, Peter has no knowledge of when, exactly, Tony bought that place. He suspects it was after Tony had discovered him, but, of course, he doesn’t ask.

All Peter really knows about it is Tony doesn’t really live there – he just stays the night on occasion, and now it’s open for Peter to use when he doesn’t feel like freaking May out.

The car rolls to a stop, and Peter grabs his backpack, steps out, and walks into the lobby, where he presses the “up” button on the elevator. The receptionists still look at him in awe (after that one time that they wouldn’t let him up but then Tony Stark himself came down and took Peter up to the penthouse) and stop what they’re doing to watch him wait for the elevator.

When it arrives, he presses Tony’s floor and looks around the gold walls. It’s stuffy in here – not a claustrophobic stuffy, and not stuffiness due to a lack of fresh air; it’s more of a haughty stuffiness, one that Peter knows Tony no longer possesses.

Which is good.

The elevator lets him off, and Tony looks up from his StarkPad and points him to the guest bedroom. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

Peter tosses his backpack on the floor next to Tony as he walks to the room. “I want to just quit school.”

Tony clicks his tongue and keeps his finger pointed towards the guestroom. “You have eighteen months until you can graduate, kid. Stick it out.”

Peter groans and flops onto the bed. His brain feels like it’s going to explode, and he knows his breathing is shallow and labored.

Tony walks in and slides a glass of warm milk onto the night stand. “Get some rest.” When he leaves, he quietly clicks the door shut.

Peter sighs and drinks up. It’s almost instantaneous, but he can hear the crackling of a fire, and he knows Tony’s set up a “calming sound effects” system for when he can’t sleep. With that, he rolls onto his back, pulls the blanket up to his chin, and closes his eyes.

He sleeps until the next afternoon.


	2. Just Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ring-a-lin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is hectic.
> 
> First, he has to get a gift for Tony Stark (what even do you get a billionaire when you only have $3.87 to spare?), then well…
> 
> There's a new kid in town.

“Kid, wake up. Your aunt’s gonna kill me if you don’t get home soon.”

Peter lifts his head from his pillow. Sunlight pokes through the curtains, and Tony’s not quiet as he bustles around the kitchen. A pot hits the ground and a muffled curse follows soon after.

Home, right?

He pushes himself out of bed and stumbles out of his room. Rhodey’s sitting on a barstool and he lifts his hand in a wave when he sees Peter. Tony’s standing in the midst of papers, books, pots, and food.

Tony stops what he’s doing and leans forward on the counter, looking Rhodes in the eyes. “Who let me adult? I can’t adult.” Without breaking eye contact, he points in Peter’s direction. “This kid is adulting better than I am. Okay, that’s not really saying much, but you get my point.”

Rhodey raises his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. “Tony,” he says patiently, “don’t you think you should have not tried making a gourmet recipe?”

Peter rubs his eye sleepily and takes the open spot next to Rhodey. “Do you have cereal, Mr. Stark?”

Tony reaches down, opens the cabinet at his knees, and pulls out Cheerios. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

“Do you have a bowl?”

Tony rolls his eyes and slides him a plastic bowl with a spoon inside it. “Just so you know, I’m out of milk, so you’re gonna just have to suck it up, buttercup.”

Peter nods and pours the cereal into the bowl. Tony begins a rant about the evilness of Secretary Ross and how board members never consider his busy schedule when they arrange meetings and how long does it take for the final grades to get in, hey Peter, Peter –

“First Friday after we get back,” he says through a mouthful.

Rhodey reaches into the box of Cheerios and pulls out a handful. “How were finals, bud?”

“Hell.” Peter takes another bite and swallows. “And I have to study for the ACT.”

“When are you taking it?”

Tony looks up from whatever he’s doing at the first mention of the ACT, but he pretends he’s not interested.

“February.”

Tony nods almost imperceptibly.

Rhodey glances in Tony’s direction before fixing his attention back to Peter. “Where are you thinking of going, Pete?”

Peter shrugs. “Depends. I really wanna go to MIT, but I couldn’t afford it.”

“I’ll pay for your college,” Tony says without thinking.

Peter brightens immediately. “Really, Mr. Stark? You-you don’t have to, you know, I’d be fine going to a community college, but…y-yeah, that’s so cool –”

Tony lifts his index finger, and Peter clamps his mouth shut. “Of course, kid. Your aunt and I even had a discussion about it. I pay for your college.”

“Ohmygosh.”

Tony rolls his eyes and points to Peter’s bowl. “Eat.”

X-X-X-X-X

The first thing he does when he gets home is change into a pair of sweats and an MIT sweatshirt that’s too big for him. The second thing he does is kiss May on the cheek, serve himself some ice cream (mint chocolate chip, of course), and sit on the couch. May chuckles and sits next to him, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in her hands. Once she’s situated, she takes the remote and turns the channel to Hallmark.

“Time for a Christmas marathon,” she says simply, settling back into the leather cushions.

Peter grins at her and grabs his blanket. Honestly, he hates these Hallmark Christmas movies, but they’re worth watching as long as May’s by his side.

It’s the feeling of Christmas, and it may be the second year that Ben’s not with them, and maybe it’s still a little weird, but it’s alright. It’s turning out alright.

It starts snowing halfway through the first movie.

For the most part, he really hates snow. It’s cold, and it makes him feel sick and he feels progressively worse and worse.

(He should probably tell Mr. Stark. He won’t, but he probably should.)

But there’s more of a beauty to it than anything else.

The snow itself is soft and quiet. As soon as it begins to fall, silence begins to dawn and people crane their necks to look up at the sky, sticking out their tongues to try and catch a snowflake. It turns everything to white, but it’s beautiful when Christmas lights buried underneath light up, when there’s some proof that life is still going on despite the stillness.

Also, his love for snow may or may not have something to do with how it falls on MJ’s hair and she smiles, her nose crinkling in delight as she looks up at the clouds.

Yep. He’s gone on her.

He does appreciate how it’s quieting the world around him, and he settles further into his seat and continues to watch the movie.

He’s home.

X-X-X-X-X

He calls Ned in a panic on the eve of Christmas Eve.

“Yeah, bro?”

“What the actual frick frack do you get a billionaire for Christmas? Ned? Ned? What do you get a billionaire for Christmas? I can’t afford anything that he’d want!”

He may not be able to see Ned, but he can practically hear him shrug. “I don’t know, man. Paint him a picture. I’m sure he’d love it.”

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose as he begins pacing. “Ned, no, you don’t understand, I can’t paint! Or draw. That’s MJ’s department.” He sighs heavily. “Besides, he probably has Van Gogh’s paintings. Originals of other artists. He doesn’t want something crappy from me.”

“Peter, you could make a crappy drawing with crayons on a napkin and he’d frame it and put it on a wall.”

“Now is not the time to lie to make me feel better, Ned.” Peter looks up at the ceiling and turns in a circle, his phone pressed to his ear. “What do I get him? What does he want that I can afford? Dude, I need your help.”

“Look, I tried to help you, Peter, but aside from painting or drawing him something – that you made, not MJ – I can literally think of nothing that he’d want. Unless –”

Peter’s ears perk up, and he stops pacing. “Unless?”

Ned sighs heavily. “We picked up a stray kitten earlier today, and our landlord won’t let us keep him. And besides, my sister’s allergic to cats. Thank goodness she’s at a sleepover tonight.”

“Ned! What does that have to do with the ‘unless?’” Yep. He’s desperate now.

“Well…I don’t know if he likes cats or whatever, but maybe you could give him this little guy.”

Peter looks up at the ceiling and mouths “thank you.” Pulling out his desk chair, he flops into it and says into the phone, “Ned, you’re a genius. Let me just ask Mr. Stark if he likes cats.” He takes the phone from his ear and switches the call to speaker, but before he can text Tony, he stops. “Wait! That’s a dead giveaway. Who else would know…?”

Another almost-audible shrug. “What about Colonel Rhodes?”

“Yes! Thank you, man, you’re the greatest.” He types out a message to Rhodey and presses send.

HEY! IS MR. STARK A CAT PERSON?

“Okay,” he says, settling back into the chair. “It’s sent.”

His phone buzzes, and he looks down to see Rhodey’s response.

…  
WHY?

“Well?” Ned asks. “What is it?”

“No clue,” Peter mumbles.

NEED TO GET HIM A CHRISTMAS PRESENT AND MY BEST FRIEND HAS A STRAY KITTEN THAT HE CAN’T KEEP.

Before he can talk to Ned again, another text comes through.

WHY NOT JUST PAINT HIM A PICTURE OR SOMETHING?

Peter huffs and types out another response.

NOT GOOD AT ART + HE HAS REALLY EXPENSIVE ART ALREADY. I DON’T WANT TO INSULT HIM.

Rhodey’s response is immediate.

HE WOULDN’T CARE, KID. BUT, YES, HE DOES LIKE CATS.

“Yes!” Peter shouts, and he can hear May’s rushed footsteps coming down the hall. “Okay, so he is a cat person. That’s great.”

COOL. THANKS.

May opens the door to Peter’s room just as he sends the text. “What was all that about?”

“May,” he says, standing quickly and grabbing his jacket, “I’ve got a present idea for Mr. Stark, and it’s at Ned’s. We need to get there right now. That good, Ned?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

Peter nods. “Right.” He looks at May and shrugs with one shoulder. “So, Ned’s.”

May rolls her eyes and points to the front door. “Alright, tiger. Get your coat on. I’ll be out in two.”

“Thank you so much!”

X-X-X-X-X

Tony’s invited them to the Tower for a Christmas celebration. And not just Peter and May: Ned and Michelle are also invited, and anyone else they may want to bring with them. However, it’s only those four who stand in front of the glass doors at the designated time as Peter cradles the speckled kitten. May opens the doors and follows the three teenagers into the lobby.

“Ouch! Your claws hurt, little guy.” Peter lets the kitten crawl up his shirt and curl into his neck. He turns back to May with a pout.

“No,” she says instantly.

Peter huffs dramatically and leads the way to the elevators. “Mr. Stark said the third floor, so…” He gestures to the fancy elevator.

When they step into the third-floor living room, they’re greeted with a massive Christmas tree, holly branches (no mistletoe, to May’s and Peter’s relief), stockings hung on the fireplace with care, presents situated around the room, Christmas-themed cookies with milk and eggnog, and wreaths and bows. It’s Christmasy and homey, and no one really expected it from Tony Stark, but here they are.

Tony looks up as soon as he hears the elevator doors ding, and he stands to greet the small party. “Welcome to a Stark Christmas!” he says, gesturing to the living room. He points to the cookies. “Courtesy of Rhodey.” He covers his mouth so Rhodey can’t see what he’s saying. “He’s a great cook,” he says, winking at May.

She rolls her eyes and hands him a poinsettia. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”

“Likewise,” he says. Rhodey stands and shakes Ned’s and MJ’s hands, introducing himself.

Peter steps forward, reaching up and plucking the kitten from the crook of his neck. It’s wearing a red ribbon tied into a bow (courtesy of MJ), and it looks from Peter to Tony with big eyes. “I, uh,” he starts, reaching out and offering it to Tony as if it’s a peace offering. “I didn’t know what to get you for Christmas and Rhodey said you’re a cat person and Ned had this cat at his place but he couldn’t keep it and I’m sorry if you don’t want it, I just didn’t know – I didn’t know what to get you, so, uh,” he shoves the cat at Tony, “here.”

Tony gapes at Peter for a moment, a smile curling on his lips. There’s a soft twinkle in his eyes as he reaches out and takes the kitten. “Thank you, Pete.” With his free hand, he pulls Peter into a one-sided hug. “It’s perfect. Boy or girl?”

Peter blinks up at Tony. “Oh, uh, boy. I think.” He glances over his shoulder to Ned. “Right?”

Ned flashes Tony a thumbs-up. “Yeah, he’s a boy.”

Tony smiles. “Thank you, too, Ned. For coming across this little guy.”

Rhodey regards the pair with a raised eyebrow. “Are you gonna give him a name?”

Tony purses his lips and nods his head slowly in consideration. “Gregory,” he says finally.

“Perfect cat name,” MJ says with a smirk.

Tony looks in the direction of the voice. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, though Peter’s told me a lot about you,” he says, ignoring Peter’s flushed face as he extends his hand to MJ. “You must be Michelle.”

She shakes his hand. “Call me MJ.” She hands him a present wrapped in Santa Claus wrapping paper. “I have a little something for you. I don’t know…I thought you might like it.”

He takes it and regards it with interest. “I’m sure I will. Thank you, MJ.” He motions to the couch with his present. “Come, come, sit down.”

They all sit, and the teenagers instinctively reach out for the Christmas cookies that are all decorated in some holiday theme: Santa Claus, gingerbread men, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. Tony taps his watch, and Christmas music begins playing as he pours the kids glasses of milk.

“What the hell is this?”

They all look up sharply to see a blonde teenager with unruly hair, his arms crossed over his chest. He rocks up on the balls of his feet. He’s wearing Buddy the Elf socks, pajama pants sporting the Grinch and Max, and a “Griswold Family Christmas” sweatshirt. He doesn’t look any older than the other kids, and he sniffles, reaching up to rub his nose.

Peter squints at the other boy and instinctively straightens his posture. “Who the hell are you?”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, but Tony stands quickly, putting himself almost in between them. “Um, guys, this is Harley Keener. He’s a friend of mine that I met during that brief period where everyone thought I was dead.” He walks over to Harley and claps him on the shoulder. “He saved my life. Little turd.” Harley reaches up and blocks Tony from tousling his hair.

“Yippidee-doo,” Peter mumbles under his breath.

Harley glares at Peter and points a finger at him. “Who the hell is he?”

“Peter Parker,” he says, standing up to his full height and puffing his chest out a little. MJ snorts into her hand, and he looks down to glare at her. “I’m one of Tony’s interns.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s Tony now, is it?” He chuckles softly to himself. “Never done that before, no matter how many times I asked you to.”

“Uh, well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Tony smirks but says nothing more on the subject, instead gesturing to the couch. “Harley, if you’ll join us.”

Harley shrugs. “I guess.” He flops into the seat facing MJ and smiles at her. “Who are you?”

“My girlfriend,” Peter says hurriedly, heat rushing into his face.

Tony and MJ both burst out laughing at Peter’s immediate and improvisational response. He flushes an even deeper shade of red.

May puts a hand on his knee and leans closer to him. “Honey,” she whispers into his ear, “you’re not being replaced. Tony has more than one friend.”

He sighs but nods.

Somehow, through the chaos of the howling laughter, Rhodey manages to calm Tony down. While he tries to compose himself, Rhodey turns to the rest of the group. “Who wants to watch Christmas Vacation?”

Peter’s only consolation throughout the entire predicament is the fact that Gregory has currently curled up next to him and seems to have no plans on moving anytime soon.

X-X-X-X-X

“Peter, can you come help me with something real quick?”

Peter looks from the screen as Tony stands and gestures toward the kitchen with his head. He sighs heavily, stroking Gregory with his finger and follows Tony.

As soon as they’re alone and out of earshot of the rest of the group, Tony immediately turns on Peter. “What was that about?”

Peter’s eyes widen, and he blinks quickly. “Oh, uh…I, uh, I-I…don’t have any idea what-what you’re talking about, Mr. Sta–”

“Can it.” Tony points to the assortment of food. “Help me put that all on the dining room table, alright?”

Peter looks at him dubiously, but he takes the ham to the table, Tony following him with the mashed potatoes and green beans. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, sliding the vegetables on the table, “you suddenly became territorial. I’ve never seen you that way. Not even when you met Cap, and I was 90% certain that you were going to try and punch him all the way into next Tuesday.”

Peter sets the ham in the middle of the table and reaches up to rub his neck. “Well…I, uh…I don’t know…I just-I just don’t want to be second fiddle, y’know?”

Tony sighs and looks Peter in the eye. “Listen to me, kid. Harley’s been playing second fiddle since you came onto the scene. I felt bad, and besides, his mom’s in rehab and he and his sister had nowhere to go. They needed someone to take care of them, and I know how crappy it feels to be alone on Christmas. I didn’t want him to know what that was like.”

Peter hands his head and tries not to scuff his feet against the linoleum. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine, kid. Just give him a chance. He’s not as bad as you might think.”

“He tried to flirt with MJ,” he murmurs.

Tony chuckles. “I’m not going to deny that. But, come on, Peter, you know you’re being unreasonable.”

Peter looks up sharply. “I’m being unreasonable?”

He nods, unphased by Peter’s tone. “Yes. You guys are more alike than you realize.”

“Bet he’s also your favorite,” Peter shoots back.

Tony shakes his head slowly, his lips pursed. “Not favorite. Just first.” He points an index finger at Peter. “I don’t have favorites, kid.”

“Between Ned and me, I’m your favorite.”

“That’s different.”

“You still have favorites.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Kid…just try to be nice to him. Please? For me? As a Christmas present?”

“I already got you a cat,” he mumbles.

“Technically that was Ned’s gift, bestowed to me by you.”

Peter glares at him. Tony seems unphased. “How long will Harley be here?”

Tony shrugs. “Another few weeks. Until his mom’s out of rehab.” He turns to leave, but before he walks back into the living room, he turns back to Peter. “He’s about your age. Maybe you guys could study together when Rhodey and I are busy.”

Peter rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

“And Pete?”

He looks up. “Yeah?”

Tony smiles at him. “It’s Christmas. Try and enjoy yourself.” With that, he walks through the kitchen to rejoin the small party, leaving Peter alone to watch the door swing back and forth until it stills.

He doesn’t like having a sibling.

X-X-X-X-X

For Tony’s sake, Peter tries to be nice to Harley.

While the adults go around setting the table and coming up with family-bonding games to play, the teens sit around the fireplace, talking about everything and nothing.

“So you’re from Tennessee?” Ned asks.

Harley nods slowly, unable to take his eyes off Ned’s ridiculous sweater. “Yeah. Rose Hill, actually.”

“And you’re sixteen?” MJ’s feet are tucked underneath her, and she holds her ankle with one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other.

“Yeah.”

“Where do you want to go to college?” Peter hates the question as much as every other teenager does, but he’s genuinely curious. He scratches Gregory’s ears, and the kitten purrs.

Harley shrugs, finally peeling his eyes from Ned’s sweater. “Either MIT or Georgia Tech. I’m not sure yet.”

“What do you want to major in?” MJ takes a sip of her drink, regarding Harley over the rim of the cup.

He shrugs again and reaches for a gingerbread man, despite Tony telling them not to eat any more cookies. “Interactive technology, maybe. Georgia Tech offers Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering, and that sounds really cool, so maybe that.”

“What do you want to be?” Ned glances in the direction of the adults, who just can’t seem to work fast enough on the final dishes.

“I don’t know. Entrepreneur, maybe. A CEO or something. I want to go into business.”

“Then why not just major in business?” MJ sets her mug down.

“Business is boring.”

“I’ve gotta agree,” Peter says, stretching his back. “Tony’s been trying to get me into all that stuff. Don’t know why, though.”

Harley narrows his eyes at Peter. “How did you meet Tony, anyway?”

Peter shrugs. “I applied for a grant, and that involved a trip to a retreat. I ended up getting an internship out of the deal.”

Harley hums in response, unconvinced. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Spider-man?”

Peter sputters. “Pssh, wh-why would you think that?” He scoffs. “Of-of all the ridiculous accusations, really –”

“Dude, you’re not discreet. Spider-man happens to be Tony Stark’s current protege, and so does Peter Parker. He’s selective, and you know it.”

Peter stares blankly at him. “There’s literally no point in trying to deny it, is there?”

Harley shakes his head once. “Nope. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Not even if they put a gun to my head.”

Before Peter can thank him, May calls from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!”

They file into the dining room one by one. Ned and MJ sit by each other, and Peter takes the spot in between May and Harley. Tony and Rhodey both sit at the head and foot of the table, respectively. Tony raises his wine glass, and everyone picks up theirs (all the kids have cider, much to their dismay) and toasts, “Merry Christmas to all!”

“Cheers!”

As the glasses clink together, Harley elbows Peter and leans over to whisper, “I’ve got a great idea for a prank on Tony.”

Peter grins devilishly and nods for Harley to tell him.

Maybe having a brother won’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered that I included Harley in the character tags, so I had to add him. If his characterization isn't spot on, I apologize, but I've only seen IM3 twice.
> 
> This chapter took a while to write, but after I found my rhythm, it became really fun! (+ I had to listen to Christmas music to get in the spirit of it and that was amazing.)


	3. Still Just a Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has a life outside of Spider-man. He has friends and things to do and places to see. But sometimes, even he doesn't realize how young he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in the mood for some fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts!

“Alright! Which of you twerps put food dye in my iron?”

Everyone looks up from their current activities, and Harley and Peter share a knowing look before going back to their project. Rhodey taps his foot slowly, and Peter can feel his eyes boring into both of them. MJ snorts and continues to pet Gregory, and Ned looks around the room confusedly.

It takes thirty seconds for Tony to stalk into the room with a baby blue button-down shirt in his hand. It must have been nice, once. Before it got, you know…green food dye in it.

Tony narrows his eyes at the two boys who currently look like they’re conspiring to participate in another evil act. “Which one of you was the evil genius?”

They both look up, and Peter flashes Tony his baby doe eyes.

“Don’t give me that, Parker. I know you’re guilty behind that kicked puppy dog look.” He turns to Harley and points an accusatory finger at him. “You got innocent little Peter involved in this, didn’t you?”

Despite his obvious guilt and the fact that the green food dye is literally sitting right in front of him, Harley merely tilts his head and blinks innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I almost believed you. You believe that? I almost believed you. Get out, get out. Go do something destructive in a place that’s built for that, like one of the labs or something.” Tony tosses the shirt onto the nearest chair. “That was a nice shirt.”

“Merry Christmas?” Peter tries.

Tony points a finger at him. “No. Uh-uh. You don’t get to ‘Merry Christmas’ me after you destroy one of my shirts. No more eggnog for you, kid. I think it’s influencing your decision-making.”

“But –”

“Ah.” He shakes his head. “No buts. You brought this on yourself. As for you, Harley,” he turns slightly and leans forward so that he’s almost in Harley’s face. “You are a turd.”

Harley nods. “Thank you. It’s my trade.”

Tony eyes him for a moment before he straightens. “Twerp.” He gestures to Rhodey, then changes his mind and gestures for Ned instead. “These childrens need adult supervision. I don’t trust those three. You, Ned, come with me. I need your help picking out a suitable outfit.”

As soon as Tony’s out of earshot, Harley and Peter high five each other.

MJ rolls her eyes. “Losers.”

Rhodey picks up the book MJ had gotten him for Christmas. “Don’t let him know it,” he says, opening to the first page, “but that’s the funniest prank anyone’s played on Tony since our days back at MIT.”

Peter and Harley high five again.

X-X-X-X-X

“I frickin’ hate you both,” Tony murmurs as he reaches for the deck and draws four cards. “You are sadistic little pricks.”

Peter grins. “I’m gonna say…” He licks his lips in consideration and registers Tony’s eyeroll. “Yellow eight.”

Tony looks up from his hand. “Asshole.” He reaches forward and draws another card, peeking to see if it’s either a yellow or an eight. He breathes a sigh of relief and deposits a yellow +2 card on top. “What’s up, bitches?”

Harley glares at him and takes his two cards. “Just your luck, Parker,” he says, slipping a red card on top, “you get to draw two.”

“Ti odio.” Peter drops a red 3 on the deck.

Tony snorts and lifts his cards to cover his smile. “Non bello.”

Harley looks between them. “That’s not English. You’re not speaking English. That sounds like Italian. Is it Italian?” He narrows his eyes at Peter. “You know I can’t speak Italian.”

“Sí, questo è il punto.” He smirks at Tony. “Non può vincere.”

Tony nods and grins. “Concordato.”

“I hate you.”

Tony shifts through his deck, finally finding the card he’s looking for. “Anche lui,” he says, nodding at Peter. Harley doesn’t catch it.

Harley slams down his cards, looking between them. “This is not fair.” He points a finger at Tony. “I can speak French. French! Not Italian.”

Tony shrugs. “Alors fais le.”

Harley glares at him. “Je vais.”

Peter holds up a hand. “Wait, wait, I have an idea: foreign language is for trash-talking. That fair?”

After some consideration, both Tony and Harley nod. “Alright. Fair enough,” Tony says.

“Cool,” Harley says, dropping a card onto the pile. “Blue seven.”

Peter stares at the +4 card for an uncomfortable length of time. “Vaffanculo,” he finally mutters under his breath.

Tony bursts out laughing.

X-X-X-X-X

In all honesty, Peter’s a little concerned for (and scared of) Harley’s sister.

Tony says it’s nothing to worry about, but he has overheard him and Rhodey talking about taking her to see a doctor. And Harley tries, it’s not like he doesn’t, it’s just…

Something’s wrong with her.

Harley thinks it’s because their dad left and their mom’s in rehab. Peter doesn’t know what to think. And Tony sucks in a sharp breath during a “family gathering” when an idea comes to him, and he doesn’t tell either Peter or Harley what exactly his thought was.

They just know it wasn’t good.

Peter stays over at the tower one night during the break.

Really, he hadn’t meant to, but he had gotten so caught up working with both Tony and Harley on a nuclear fusion reactor (Harley’s idea) that he had lost track of time.

So, yeah. He’s staying the night in what used to be Cap’s old room.

As per usual, he can’t sleep. It’s not necessarily the nightmares this time, it’s just…stress. A lot of stress. He has standardized testing, he has college applications to begin filling out, he has work and movies to see and things to do and places to see, and it’s just the combination of all of it that results in his lack of rest.

He doesn’t even know what he wants to do with his life. When he was younger, he wanted to be an astronaut or a doctor or – just like pretty much everyone else – Tony Stark. When NASA stopped sending people to outer space, that dream died, and after Ben passed, his hopes of ever being a doctor disappeared with him.

So, no. When he’s asked that inevitable and terrifying question of “What do you want to be?” he has literally no idea how to answer it. Entrepreneur? CEO? Teacher? Lawyer? Accountant? Reporter? He – and the world – might never know. He might be a hermit. Yeah, hermit sounds nice.

It takes another ten minutes of stress eating at him to finally make him get out of his bed (or rather, Cap’s bed) and head to the main living area. He doesn’t know if he’s going to get a glass of milk, a midnight snack, or a book (or even all three), but he just needs to clear his head.

When he exits the elevator, he can hear music softly playing from further down the hall. After a moment’s consideration, he changes his path and walks in the direction of the lab. Knocking gently on the doorframe, he pushes it open and finds Tony sitting at one of the tables, his head in his hand and a glass of orange juice on the tabletop.

Tony looks up when he sees the door swing open, and he waves Peter in. “Come in, come in.” He sniffles and takes a drink of his juice. “What’s eating you?”

Peter shrugs. “Stress.” He squints at the picture frame on the table and points to it. “Who gave you that?”

Tony furrows his brow and his eyes follow Peter’s finger to the picture. “Oh, that! Michelle, actually.”

Peter smiles and comes closer, pulling up a chair and sitting in it. “Her mom took that picture, actually.”

“Really?” Tony reaches out and picks up the frame, studying it. It’s a picture of Ned, MJ, and Peter sitting on the ground, textbooks open in front of them. They’re all laughing –Peter’s leaning forward, mouth wide open, hand in mid-thigh slap; MJ is holding a stack of notecards to her chest, eyes closed, nose crinkled; Ned’s head is thrown back, and his hand is holding his chest.

It’s a genuine moment, and Peter is grateful that Mrs. Jones took that picture.

Peter nods at it. “Y’know, we were laughing at MJ’s little sister.” He chuckles softly to himself. “She was wearing a ghost costume – ‘cause it was almost Halloween – and, uh…” he scratchs the back of his neck and Tony looks up at him with a half smile. “I mean, we were studying, and the test was the next day. So, uh, we sent her out, and she turned around and walked straight into the doorframe.”

Tony laughs lightly. “Kids,” he says with a shake of his head.

“I…I guess we were all so tired that it just made it, like, a thousand times funnier than it actually was.” He tilts his head and looks at the picture again. “But it was pretty funny, not gonna lie.”

Tony regards the picture a moment longer. “Yeah,” he says, “bet it was.” As he places it back on the desk, his face falls.

Peter drums his fingers against the table. “What’s wrong?”

Tony looks up and shakes his head, smiling at Peter. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Liar,” he says softly. “You’re not fine.”

Tony sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s a lot of things, kid.”

Peter looks up and gestures around the room. “I’ve got time.”

Tony smiles again. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I can’t protect you.” He sighs again and fiddles with his hands, looking anywhere but at Peter. “No matter how much I try, no matter what I add to your suit, I can’t. And I look at this picture, and I see…” He swallows heavily. “You’re still just a kid.”

Whatever Peter was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. He tries to force a smile. “I can take care of myself, Mr. Stark.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, is that what your bullet wounds and broken ribs say? You’re a kid, and we have yet to face the biggest threats out there. To those guys, you’re nothing but a twig to snap in half.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And I look at you, and I see a kid with so much potential, but instead, you’re turning out like me. You’re throwing yourself into harm’s way to protect people you don’t know. And, dammit, Peter, you can’t – I can’t lose you. I can’t deal with that being on my conscience.”

There’s nothing for Peter to say. So he just nods, settles back into his chair, and says, “I think I’ll stay here for a little bit longer.”

Tony smiles tiredly. “I guess, kid.”

X-X-X-X-X

So, Tony can apparently play the piano.

Somewhere in the tower, Tony’s playing the piano and choppy notes follow after his smooth ones. Peter blinks himself awake and listens for the next set of notes. The tune is familiar, and he licks his lips as he tries to place it. When he walks out of the lab and into the kitchen, he finds Rhodey standing at the counter.

“Does this song sound familiar to you?” he asks the older man with a yawn. “I’ve heard it before.”

Rhodey nods. “Yeah, I’ve heard it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the music begins to flow together smoothly and Rhodey begins to sing softly.

“Edelweiss, edelweiss, every morning you greet me…”

Peter furrows his brow. It’s familiar, he knows it, he knows it, he knows it –

Before he can place the tune, the music changes quickly, and Peter realizes that Tony’s playing a medley. He follows the sound of music to one of the lower floors, where he finds Harley standing at the door.

Harley nods to the two sitting on the piano bench. “Tony says it’s a form of therapy. He’s teaching her piano.”

Peter nods. “I didn’t know he could play.”

“Neither did I.”

Harley’s sister, Hailey, tilts her head and watches as Tony’s fingers dance across the piano keys, occasionally reaching across her and playing a few notes on the higher scales. Somewhere in the middle of the song, he nods to her, and she places her hands on the keys and plays alongside him.

At first, Peter thinks it will turn out poorly, but Hailey keeps up with Tony in all his glory. Tony plays a melody, and Peter immediately recognizes its origin.

“I didn’t know he liked the Sound of Music,” he murmurs to himself.

“Right?”

Hailey removes her hands from the piano, and Tony finishes the piece easily. Once they’re sure he’s done, Harley and Peter begin to applaud.

“Brava! Bravo!”

Tony looks up from the piano keys. “You little shits,” he says, shaking his head.

“You never told me you could play piano,” Peter says as he steps into the room.

Tony shrugs and pulls the piano cover over the keys. “You never asked.”

“Remember when you, Rhodey, and me were talking about instruments? And you said you knew violin? Why did you not mention piano?”

He shrugs again. “Everyone knows some piano. You might know ‘Joy to the World’ or something really simple, or even just a few notes, but you still know it.” He flexes his fingers a few times. “And it’s like riding a bike, you never truly forget.”

“So, in short, you forgot you knew you could play the piano?”

Tony narrows his eyes at Harley. “Actually, yes. It’s very possible, you know.” He gestures to Hailey that he’s about to leave, and she stands when he stands. “And no free piano lessons for either of you. Hailey’s got a natural gift for it.”

“So you decided to play songs from the Sound of Music?” Peter’s still not convinced that Tony’s a fan.

“Actually, Hailey likes it more than I do, but I did like it once. Enough to learn the songs.” He gestures Hailey and Peter out of the room. “Breakfast, guys. Most important meal of the day.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Harley says as he rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. Eat your breakfast. We’ve got toast, eggs, cereal…we don’t have bacon because Peter decided to eat it all, and then I ate whatever was left…”

As they walk back upstairs, Peter casts one last lingering glance at the piano.

He has never heard anything so beautiful before.

X-X-X-X-X

MJ is opinionated about pretty much everything.

Not that he really minds.

Currently, she’s going off about how the American education system is severely flawed, and he just watches her rant with a smile because he’s so tired and she’s so pretty, even though she doesn’t wear makeup and she’s angry and in his face, snapping her fingers.

“Spiderboy? You there? A rant involves two people, not just one.” She reaches behind her and pulls her hair to the side.

He nods and stretches. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired.”

“I understand.” She leans back and ponders for a moment. “Why did you get so jealous when Harley asked who I was?” she finally asks.

Peter flushes bright red. “No reason,” he splutters, even when MJ raises an eyebrow at him. “I just – he just…I mean – you-I…”

She laughs lightly. “You’re an idiot, Parker.”

“What for this time?”

“You are so not subtle.” She crawls over to her bookshelf and looks through the titles. “I’m surprised you managed to keep your alter ego a secret from New York, let alone your aunt.”

“So…wait, what?” He isn’t quite sure what she’s implying.

She picks a book from her shelf and tosses it to him without looking behind her. He catches it easily. “I’ve known you’ve had a crush on me since the end of last school year. Again: you’re not subtle.” She chooses another book for herself, and he checks the title of the one she’d given him.

“I thought you hated this one,” he says, lifting it slightly.

“I do,” she says, opening her own book. “Doesn’t mean you will. Now, start reading or else this will be our last date ever.”

He stares at her incredulously for a moment before a dorky grin creeps onto his face. “Really?”

She lifts her head and tries to look exasperated but fails. “Yes, really. Now start reading.”

As he opens up A Prayer for Owen Meaney, he can’t help but say, “I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“You’re also an idiot,” she deadpans without taking her eyes off the page.

He is so in love.

X-X-X-X-X

“Hand me the flashlight,” he says, sticking out his hand and waiting for Ned to drop the miniature flashlight into it.

There’s a defined smack in his palm, and he can feel Ned hovering over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Mr. Stark gave me a new phone for Christmas,” he says, sticking the flashlight in between his teeth. “I wanted to see if I could make my own AI.”

“Isn’t his technology basically unhackable ever since we removed the tracker from your suit?”

Peter looks up to the ceiling and rolls his eyes, as if to say, “Jesus, give me strength.” He shakes his head. “I mean, it’s not like he installed a tracker into this. And I’m not hacking it,” he says, carefully gripping the microprocessor with his tweezers, “I’m adding stuff.”

Ned hands him a little plate. “Are you going to model your own or…?”

Peter shakes his head, carefully depositing the chip onto the plate. “I actually really like the AI in my suit. I named her Karen. She’s very supportive.”

“Dude, it would be way more impressive if you could make your own.”

Peter knows this. “Baby steps, Ned,” he says. “Baby steps.” He pulls up a chair and logs onto his computer.

“So…what about that Harley kid? Is he cool?” Ned takes the chair beside him, still holding the plate in his hand.

Peter looks at him and nods once. “Yeah. He’s cool.” He pulls up a page of code and scrolls through it. “Where are you, where are you, where are you,” he murmurs.

“Is he, like…your new best friend or something?”

Peter stops perusing the code and looks to Ned. “No. No one can replace you, Ned.”

Ned visibly brightens. “Really?”

Peter smiles at him. “Really.”

Ned smiles even wider before he looks at the screen. “Whoa, dude,” he says, tapping on it. “I think that’s your model.”

Peter leans forward. “Bingpot,” he says.

X-X-X-X-X

“This is so boring.”

Tony rolls his eyes and points to a paragraph in the book. “I know, kid, but you’ve gotta learn this somehow.”

“But I don’t.” Peter looks up and tries to push the book away. “I can learn this in college.”

“You can’t make a living as Spiderling, kid. Especially if you don’t reveal your identity.” Tony lifts his hand to block the book from being shoved off the table.

“Yeah, I can. They can just make out a check to Spider-man,” he says.

“And how are you going to cash that check or withdraw money from Spider-man’s bank account?” He lifts up a finger. “You see, you’d know this if you actually cared to read about it.”

Peter buries his head in his hands.

“Come on, kid. I know it’s boring, but if you get through this section, I promise we’ll do something fun later.”

Peter looks up. “Mr. Stark, I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m also on break. I do not want to learn anything at the current moment.”

Tony stares at him for a moment, carefully picking up the book and closing it. “Alright,” he says, and just by his tone alone, Peter knows something’s wrong. Tony points to the door. “Exit’s right there.”

He sits up straight. “You’re gonna kick me out for not wanting to learn about business?!”

“You literally have four paragraphs left in this section!”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, “why do you care so much about whether or not I know business?”

Tony purses his lips. “You’re always gonna need to know something about it. Business is one of the most important subjects. You can do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone if you know it. Everyone relies on some business.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Besides, you’re an intern and that means you need to know something about this stuff whenever I don’t feel like doing it.”

“Don’t you have Pepper for that?”

Tony winces. “Pepper stepped down. She has a new job somewhere else.”

“Oh.” He thinks for a minute. “Who’s CEO now, then?”

“I am.” He reopens the book and points to the paragraph that they had left off on. “Now, are you with me?”

Peter sighs dramatically. “I guess.”

“Okay then.” Tony cranes his neck and begins reading the first sentence. “Policy is a blueprint of the organizational activities which are repetitive in nature…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreign language translations:
> 
> Ti odio = I hate you  
> Non bello = Not nice  
> Sí, questo è il punto = Yeah, that's the point  
> Non può vincere = We can't let him win  
> Concordato = Agreed  
> Anche lui = So does he  
> Alors fais le (French) = Then do it  
> Je vais (French) = I will  
> Vaffanculo = Fuck you
> 
> All of them were according to google translate, so…
> 
> And how about that B99 reference?!?


	4. When Silence Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You doing alright, Pete?”
> 
>  
> 
> Peter looks up from the motherboard. “Y-yeah, Mr. Stark. This isn’t too bad.”
> 
>  
> 
> Tony opens his mouth to say something else, but he just shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, call me if you need anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honesty Hour: I legitimately thought I was going to abandon this fic. I liked the idea, but I got too excited at the beginning and lost all motivation. I know a lot of you enjoyed this one, and I started multiple different chapters, and they all fizzled out. I even have a rough outline, and still, it didn't help. Then I started talking to @howlingdawn about how we are deprived of Rhodey & Peter in the MCU and I finally came up with an idea. Thank her, guys. Without that convo, this fic would have been abandoned.
> 
> I apologize for the wait.

_ One in, one out. _

 

_ Listen to your heartbeat. _

 

_ Focus on something. _

 

Peter breathes rapidly, his hands pressed over his ears. The darkness seems to close over him, seems to smother him in its grip. He kicks off his bed covers, but he still feels hot. The darkness is still too much. He tries to focus on his heartbeat, like MJ told him to one day, but it’s erratic. It beats too fast, and the more he focuses on it, the more he hyperventilates.

 

The wind outside howls, and Peter curls into himself. “Fuck,” he whispers. He knows, logically, that the building won’t collapse because of a small gust of wind, but it doesn’t stop his mind from running wild.

 

The only sound he can hear is the sound of the wind, and it unsettles him, reminds him of the plane, and finally, he tries to get out of bed to call Tony. Somewhere, the signals get crossed, and he ends up falling out of bed. He grimaces, and he waits for May to come running into his room.

 

Next door, he doesn’t hear her stir. He waits one beat, then two, and finally, he accepts that the coast is clear. He crawls to his desk and picks up his phone. He unlocks it, and the touch screen is too bright. He squints against the glare as he taps the phone app, but it’s ridiculously bright, so he changes it to night shift. When he exits the control center, he realizes that he accidentally pressed Rhodey’s contact.

 

He’s about to hang up, panickedly whispering “shit” over and over, when Rhodey picks up. “Kid? What’s going on?”

 

Peter fumbles his phone, and it slips through his fingers, clattering to the floor. “Shit,” he mumbles.

 

“Kid, listen to me: what’s wrong?”

 

Peter picks up the phone and crawls to his closet. “Nothing!” he says, and it sounds forced to his own ears. He opens the closet door and crawls inside, shutting it behind him.

 

He forgot one very important thing: closets get really dark at night.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he says, hitting his head against the wall in his mild panic.

 

“Peter, tell me what’s wrong. Are you in the suit? Do I need to get Tony?”

 

Peter’s trembling now, and he feels immobile. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to take three deep breaths, but all he can hear is his rapid heartbeat, all he can see is blackness, and all he can feel is the closet walls closing in on him. He tightens his grip on his phone. “Get me  _ out _ of here!”

 

“Peter, where are you?”

 

It’s oddly cold inside the closet. There’s no vent, but in the winter months, the insulation is lacking, and Peter presses his back to the far wall. The cold penetrates his shirt and presses its hand against his back, and he shivers. “Help me,” he whispers.

 

On the other end of the phone, Rhodey says, “Okay, Peter, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

 

Peter nods his head. “Yes.” His voice is small and broken.

 

“Okay. Just listen to my voice. Nothing else, alright?”

 

Peter nods again. “Okay.” His breathing is evening out already, but he’s still breathing too fast, still panicking.

 

Rhodey moves something around, and Peter hears the sound of a book cover touching a hard surface. Rhodey flips a few pages and clears his throat. “Remember, just listen to my voice.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“‘When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume, among the Powers of the earth…’”

 

Peter breathes through his mouth, trying to pay attention to Rhodey’s voice. His voice rises and falls, but it remains calm; it never hurts to listen to. Peter has no idea why Rhodey has selected the Declaration of Independence – of all things – to read, but he finds it relaxing. His heart slows down. His breathing evens out.

 

Rhodey keeps reading, even when he finishes the Declaration of Independence. He skips a few papers, and then he begins reading the Star-Spangled Banner.

 

Peter lets out a shaky breath and leans his head against the wall. He closes his eyes as Rhodey continues to read to him, and he tries to stay awake. In this moment, in the closet, Peter finally feels safe.

 

By the time Rhodey gets to Reagan’s speech “A Time for Choosing,” Peter’s fast asleep, and he’s okay. No more panic attacks. No more nightmares.

 

\---

 

The next day, Peter wakes up with a crick in his neck and a text from Tony asking him to swing (again,  _ not _ literally) by the Tower today. He groans and stretches, and crawls out of his closet. He winces when he sees the  mess he made: his bed covers are tossed onto the floor, and it seems that he knocked over some of his books in his haste to get to his phone. It’s a wonder May didn’t wake up.

 

When Peter walks into the kitchen for his breakfast, he can see why. May stands at the counter and pours coffee into her thermos. Her hair is wild, spiking randomly and pressing against her head in other areas. Her eyes are bloodshot, and Peter knows that it’s time to tiptoe.

 

She looks up when she hears him. “Whatever you do, don’t ever have too much fun when you turn 21. It hurts too much.”

 

“So how was your date last night?” He’s not sure if now is exactly the best time, but it’s better than trying to explain why he was thrashing around all night last night.

 

“Awful and alright. It was fine until he took me back to his place, and –” May trails off and shudders. “I’m not going to tell you the weird stuff he’s into.”

 

“Please don’t,” Peter says, opening the refrigerator door.

 

“There’s no more apple juice in there. You’re going to have to settle for grape or orange juice.”

 

Peter sighs heavily and pulls out the grape juice. “Mr. Stark wants me to stop by the Tower today. I think there’s a project he wants me to work on.”

 

May presses her hand to her temple. “Just as long as you do it quietly.”

 

“It’s literally fifteen minutes away with webslinging.”

 

She grimaces and takes a gulp of her coffee. “I said  _ quietly _ .”

 

Peter laughs and moves to kiss May’s cheek. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too, brat.” She takes another gulp. “This crap is  _ hot _ .”

 

“Then stop drinking it like a shot.”

 

She glares at him. “I can’t  _ wait _ until you get a hangover. It will be the literal death of you and I am going to bang pots and pans next to your head.”

 

He grins cheekily. “No, you won’t. You’re too scared to hurt my ears.”

 

“Just get ready for Tony’s thing!”

 

Peter salutes her. “Hey, uh, quick question: where’s the cereal?”

 

\---

 

One very important detail to note: Peter doesn’t ever listen to a single word that Tony says, ever, in the history of time. Most of the time, Peter looks back and realizes, hey, maybe he really  _ should _ have listened to Mr. Stark (@ the whole “stay close to the ground” thing and “don’t go after the flying Vulture guy” and “keep your distance from the supersoldiers” and the…). Point is, he doesn’t exactly listen to Tony a whole lot.

 

But in his own personal opinion, it’s not exactly  _ too _ big a deal if he puts on a disguise and swings over to the Stark Tower. He’s about to start swinging from the buildings when Happy texts him that he’s here.

 

Of course. Naturally. Tony knows him better than he knows himself. Peter huffs out a sigh, grabs a doughnut from the kitchen and heads downstairs to meet Happy. Happy doesn’t converse. Peter eats his doughnut.

 

The drive is short but cold and Peter tugs his sweatshirt sleeves to cover his hands. “How was your Christmas, Happy?”

 

Happy shrugs. “Too long.”

 

Peter presses his lips tightly together and watches the snow fall. The flakes are large and small alike, covering the ground like a blanket. People hurry along the sidewalks, wrapped in scarves and coats and hats. They duck their heads, tuck their chins into their scarves or coats, and some of them look up to the sky and smile. He sees someone standing on the street corner, and they smile brilliantly, open their arms wide, and twirl, soaking up the snowflakes. A few kids stick out their tongues, trying to catch snowflakes.

 

Peter settles back in his seat and smiles.

 

Happy pulls up in front of the Stark Tower, and Peter gets out and tucks his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. The weather bites into his skin, but he doesn’t mind. It’s a beautiful day outside.

 

When he steps into the warm lobby of the Stark Tower, he relaxes a bit more. Happy squeezes past him, mumbling something about “his optimism being sickening” and Rhodey peers around the corner and waves.

 

“Hey, Pete,” he says, jogging over to Peter as best he can. “How’re you doing?”

 

Peter gestures with his right hand. “I’m doing good. It’s a nice day outside.”

 

“It’s snowing.”

 

“Doesn’t mean that it can’t be a nice day.”

 

Rhodey shakes his head and claps Peter on the shoulder. “Wish everyone had your optimism. Come on, Tony’s down in the shop.”

 

Down in the lab, Tony tinkers with one of the bots. When Rhodey unlocks the lab doors for Peter to get in, Tony looks up and points Peter in the direction of a different project. “I’ve got the blueprints pulled up for you.”

 

Peter waves bye to Rhodey and bounds into the lab. At his table, Tony has left him a rough outline of a miniaturized DUM-E. He looks up excitedly. “I get a DUM-E?”

 

Tony shrugs, not bothering to look up from his project. “I didn’t get you a Christmas present this year, kid.”

 

“Mr. Stark, you literally could not provide for me better than you already do. This – this is too much. I can’t repay you.” Peter tilts his head and sticks out the tip of his tongue as he concentrates on the blueprints.

 

Tony gestures with his screwdriver. “Those blueprints are my old ones. I was thinking you could alter the control board and make it more advanced than DUM-E here –” Tony taps his screwdriver against DUM-E’s head “– but if you want another one of him, then go for it.”

 

Peter grins and ducks under the lab table to retrieve the tools. “Thank you so much, Mr. Stark!”

 

“No problem, kiddo. Besides, you got me a cat. How else was I supposed to live up to that gift?”

 

Peter mumbles under his breath and begins to assemble the parts. He runs to the other side of the lab and grabs the wires and other parts that he can carry. He deposits them all on the table and shuffles through the toolbox. “You know, I’ve taken apart computers and DVD players and even TVs, and this has gotta be the most complex thing I’ll ever create.”

 

“What about those webshooters of yours? That ain’t an easy feat, kid.” He pats DUM-E’s head. “There you go, DUM-E. You’re free. I fixed that wire.”

 

DUM-E whirs and putters away, seemingly to watch Peter assemble his little brother.

 

Tony pulls up a holographic display and studies it. When Peter looks over, he sees a new Iron Man suit design.

 

Peter just shrugs and gets back to assembling the mini-bot. His tongue pokes out from in between his lips as he concentrates, his eyes shifting from the blueprints to his own creation.

 

“You doing alright, Pete?”

 

Peter looks up from the motherboard. “Y-yeah, Mr. Stark. This isn’t too bad.”

 

Tony opens his mouth to say something else, but he just shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, call me if you need anything.”

 

“Are you going somewhere?”

 

Tony smiles and shakes his head. “Nope. I’m just going to work on some updates to my suit. I’ll be over in that section over there,” he says, pointing to the other side of the lab. “Just so I don’t accidentally blow something up and destroy your hard work.”

 

Peter smiles and refocuses on the motherboard. It’s – thus far – the second most complicated thing he’s attempted to create, and he needs his peace and quiet. His hands are steady as he follows Mr. Stark’s instructions.

 

He remembers that MJ said she wants to be a doctor, and she pointed at his hands and said that he wouldn’t ever be able to be a surgeon because his hands aren't steady enough. Now, however, his hands don’t shake as he finishes assembling the motherboard.

 

Over in the other corner, he can hear Mr. Stark taking apart one of his previous Iron Man suits. Peter wants to know why, but he’s so caught up in building DUM-E’s little brother that he forgets to ask Tony anything. This is the most important computer thing he’s done in his life.

 

“Mr. Stark?” he calls.

 

Tony stops his work. “Yeah, kid?”

 

“Is it possible to uh, you know, add an AI to this? Or is that too much?”

 

Tony wipes his hands on a rag and peers over Peter’s shoulder. “That’s up to you, kid. I think it’d be cool. You could design your own AI.”

 

Peter twists so he’s looking up at Mr. Stark. “Yeah, but I’ve never built an AI before. I’d need your help.”

 

Tony shrugs. “You want to?”

 

Peter turns back to the robot-in-progress and chews on his bottom lip. “Not yet, Mr. Stark. Maybe later.”

 

Tony nods. “Okay. When you reach a stopping point, let’s head upstairs and get some lunch.”

 

Peter grins. “Pizza with pineapple?”

 

Tony tousles Peter’s hair. “Of course.”

 

\---

 

Tony doesn’t talk about Peter’s panic attack that day.

 

Peter knows that’s why Tony called him over, but Peter didn’t want to talk about it. It was one instance, it was a mistake, he was just overreacting.

 

Somewhere in Rhodey’s and Tony’s mind, however, they worry. Peter knows that his calls to either of them always go through. They always know what’s up with him, and Peter hates it. He’s not a child anymore, despite what last night may have indicated.

 

Peter doesn’t emerge from the lab for lunch. Despite the way his stomach growls, he’s more intent on finishing his robot in record time. Tony tries to say something, tries to convince him to go upstairs, but it’s futile. Peter’s zoned in.

 

“Listen, kid,” Tony finally says. “I know you’re having the time of your life building DUM-E’s little brother over there, but you really need to eat. I’ve been listening to your stomach play Beethoven’s 5th Symphony like, eight times already.”

 

“But, Mr. Stark –”

 

“No buts. You can stay here, at the tower, and get up at the ass crack of dawn to keep working on it, or you can go home and rest up. Whatever the case, you need to get dinner first.”

 

There’s no room in Tony’s voice for argument, so Peter sets down his screwdriver and leans back in his chair. “You said I can stay here for the night?”

 

Tony nods. “Yep.”

 

“You’re not worried about me pranking you?”

 

Tony chuckles. “No, Harley’s back home. You’re too polite to do that without his influence.”

 

Peter tilts his head as if to say,  _ eh, you’re right _ and stretches. “Okay, let me call May.” He picks up his phone and explains to May that he’s going to stay the night at the Stark Tower. She agrees, and tells him to be safe and not to try and save the world if the occasion  _ happens _ to arise.

 

Tony waits for Peter to leave the lab first, and then he shuts off the lights and closes the door. Upstairs, Rhodey has placed all orders of pizza in front of the TV and holds up three fingers. “Do we want to watch  _ Star Wars _ ,  _ Star Trek _ , or  _ Brooklyn Nine-Nine _ ?”

 

Peter stares at him with his mouth open. “You can’t possibly expect me to choose between the three.”

 

Tony laughs, and as he passes by Peter, he tousles his hair. “You’ve seen  _ Star Wars _ enough to have them memorized. I, on the other hand, have never seen  _ Brooklyn Nine-Nine _ .” He takes a seat on one of the couches.

 

Peter shrieks. “ _ How _ are you my hero?  _ You’ve never seen Brooklyn Nine-Nine _ ?”

 

Tony looks up when Peter says “hero” and shrugs. “Kid, I’ve watched every other show in existence. If I recall correctly, you made me watch  _ Stranger Things _ and that was at the time I was planning to start binge-watching  _ Brooklyn _ .”

 

Peter just shakes his head and looks to Rhodey. “We need to save him,” he says, entirely serious.

 

Rhodey laughs. “I figured you’d say that.”

 

Peter settles on the middle couch and takes his box of (extra-large) pizza. Rhodey tosses him the remote and Peter presses play.

 

By the end of the night, they’ve all established that Peter is Charles Boyle.

 

\---

 

“Fuck.”

 

The room is dark, and he tries to curl into himself. He feels trapped, and this time it’s worse than just a collapsed building. This time it’s a knife to his throat and an older man with a sadistic smile. Peter curls into himself as much as he can, but there’s no use. The man comes closer, and Peter backs against the wall.

 

His breaths come rapidly, his heart beats quickly, and his hands shake. He’s not steady like he was earlier today, down in the lab. He’s very much unstable right now. His breath hitches in his throat and he tries not to start crying.

 

_ One in, one out. _

 

_ Focus on your heartbeat. _

 

_ Disappear. _

 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he screams, flinches away, covers his face with his hands.

 

“Peter? Peter, it’s just me, okay?”

 

He knows that voice. It’s Tony.

 

“Look, I’m right here, okay? Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna touch you. I’m sitting down in your desk chair. Is that alright?”

 

Peter nods, his hands still covering his face. “Yes,” he chokes out.

 

“Okay.” Peter hears Tony pull the chair out and sit down. Tony sighs, and Peter knows that sigh. It’s the one where Tony doesn’t know how to help and he’s too scared to ask. Peter hates that sigh.

 

“It’s too much,” Peter chokes out.

 

“You feel trapped, don’t you?” Tony doesn’t wait for Peter’s answer. “Can you hear the hum of my arc reactor?”

 

Peter nods. “It hurts.” He feels weak, useless, worthless.

 

“I know, Pete, I know, but can you try and focus on that? Nothing else. Just the hum of the reactor.”

 

Peter takes a shaky breath and nods. He squeezes his eyes shut and listens to the hum, and the more he focuses on it, the more the rest of the world fades away, until it’s just him and the reactor. He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

 

He relaxes and pulls his hands away from his face. “You want to talk about it, don’t you?” he asks Tony.

 

Tony purses his lips. “Only once you’re ready.”

 

Peter breathes out shakily. “I’m not.”

 

Tony nods slowly. “Okay. That’s okay. I’m here.”


End file.
